I know, it’s been months since my last post, and I’m surprised I still have readers (I know—I’ve checked my stats). But for someone who doesn’t have a lot to do, I’ve done a lot this summer, not the...
I know, it’s been months since my last post, and I’m surprised I still have readers (I know—I’ve checked my stats). But for someone who doesn’t have a lot to do, I’ve done a lot this summer, not the least of which was a trip to Mexico with family in early August. Now that was an experience…one none of us will ever forget.
Oh, it all started off innocently enough. We got off the plane in Puerto Vallarta and discovered our reservation at one resort had accidentally been canceled, so Ben had to find another one, FAST. We ended up at a nice hotel that had a 1930s ambiance and an unfortunate number of stairs. Seeing as how Clint’s mom and I needed wheelchairs much of the time—and Mexico does not have the Americans with Disabilities Act—there was a lot of creeping up and down said stairs with breath held and tense muscles. (There were elevators, but you had to use stairs to get to them. Go figure.)
But we managed to have a great time anyway, and we ate authentic Mexican food and sipped free tropical drinks and spent way too much time in the sun at the pool. I’m still peeling. We were about the only Americans at this resort so almost everything, including announcements, were in Spanish, but it was amazing how quickly conversational Spanish came back to me. I found myself ordering food and making small talk in the language, and I think the staff was appreciative because their English wasn’t really all that great.
It was on the voyage home that things kinda went to hell in the proverbial bushel basket. First of all, we had to fly to Chicago to catch a connecting flight to Portland (whoever came up with that itinerary should have to make that same trip when they’re tired and just want to get home). But we couldn’t land because of thunderstorms, besides which—according to the pilot—we were running low on fuel (!) and needed to gas up in Minneapolis. We finally made it back to Chicago, but by this time it was after midnight, and our connecting flight had been canceled so we were stuck there for the night.
Well, I’m here to tell you that you haven’t lived till you’ve sat out in front of O’Hare International Airport at 2 AM, waiting for a taxi to take you to a hotel 20 minutes away, and not knowing exactly when or how you’ll get home. We spent all of three hours in the hotel the airline provided for us before we had to go back to the airport. This next flight took us to Dallas/Ft. Worth, where we waited for many hours as the flight to Portland was delayed several times.We FINALLY boarded just before 9 PM and made it to Portland around midnight.
I’ve left a lot out of the preceding narrative in the interest of not boring y’all to tears, but I should mention that we had a family friend with us who somehow ruptured something in her back that kept her in a wheelchair for the last couple of days of the vacation. So there were poor Ben and Clint, with THREE women in wheelchairs and little help from the skeleton crews that run airports at night. They deserve all the credit in the world for getting us all through those harrowing days without completely losing their minds.
And we’re going back in January.
It’ll be to another part of Mexico, but we’re doing the destination vacation thing again and hopefully everyone will be a little healthier. In the meantime, I’ll keep brushing up on my Spanish and try to post more often than every 3-4 months!
